No feeling in my fingers
No feeling in my toes
Lambeau's all around me
And the cold beer flows
Frostbitten by the wind
And it's 60-below
Standing with my shirt off
Yelling "Go Pack, go!"

My tongue is purple
And my skin is blue
My trachea's frozen
And my plumbing is, too
The wind chill is higher
Than my drunken I.Q.
I'm mooning John Madden
And the FOX TV crew.

"Hi, Mom!" to the camera
(Inhibitions are low)
Naked on "The Tundra"
(Slick and covered with snow)
Stride for stride with Freeman
Waiting for a Favre throw
Streaking toward the end zone
With the pigskin in tow

The defense is stunned
Because I've beaten it deep
Eluding security--
A Lambeau Leap!
The women all scream
(Because I've just won the game?)
I make my escape
Without leaving my name.

That concludes my story
(Kindly add your belief)
Retired from pro football
(To the Packers' relief)
In the running for an "ESPY"
(With a parsley fig leaf)
Hall of Fame enshrinement
(Jerry Kramer: "Good grief!")

I'm The Man With No Name
Naked, feeling no shame
Having just won the game
C'mon, Hall of Fame...